


gives me reason

by Barrhorn



Category: Carole & Tuesday (Anime)
Genre: Domestic, F/F, Fluff, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 13:23:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19151896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barrhorn/pseuds/Barrhorn
Summary: Carole wakes up in the morning and thinks about how Tuesday's changed her life.Or: Tuesday seems to wear one of Carole's shirts to sleep.





	gives me reason

Carole wakes slowly, which lately has been a luxury. Long days of working and late nights writing and rehearsing with Tuesday have left her with less time for sleep than she’s used to.

Even so, here she is, her eyes opening onto her dimly lit apartment before her alarm goes off. “Ziggy,” she murmurs quietly, and hears the rustle of his wings spreading as he awakens in turn. “What time is it?”

As he lands next to her, she scratches his head absently, reading the 6:43 written across his stomach. Too early to start getting ready. Too late to try and get some more sleep. Well, too much time lounging in bed and she’ll probably fall asleep again anyway. And she doesn’t want to be late; she doesn’t need to be fired from another part-time job.

Throwing off the covers, Carole stands and stretches. She glances over the railing and sees Tuesday still asleep, papers scattered around her. Carole smiles as she props her elbows on the railing - Tuesday probably stayed up a little later than she did, working on lyrics. It’s a mess around her, and Carole has to bite back laughter at more and more familiar sight.

Tuesday is a whirlwind, not what Carole had expected from the quiet girl. She’s upended Carole’s entire routine with music and rehearsals and performances. And yet, Carole’s never felt so calm, so certain that what she’s found is finally _right_.

Tuesday shifts, the blanket around her falling away a bit, and Carole can see the faded striped sweatshirt that she’s been loaning Tuesday to sleep in. Tuesday’s suitcase had somehow wound up at their front door the other day - a relief for them both, as money to buy her a new set of clothes had been seriously lacking, and they’d been doing a lot of laundry as they both went through Carole’s closet. But Tuesday had reached for the sweatshirt last night, had emerged from the bathroom with it on, had answered Carole’s chuckle with a defensive, “It’s comfortable.”

“If I’d known it would be permanent, I would’ve given you a better one,” Carole had teased, because it’s always fun when she could get Tuesday a little riled.

But Tuesday had just drawn the sweatshirt closer around her, lips turning down into a small frown. “No, I like this one,” she’d said, looking down and to the side.

“Hey.” Carole had straightened, her voice dropping into seriousness because she didn’t expect her heart to lurch like that. “It’s yours for as long as you want.”

Remembering Tuesday’s little smile, the way the whole mood of the room had lifted, Carole finds herself smiling into the morning light.

Maybe it’s not strange that she’s awake early. She’s had fewer nightmares since Tuesday came into her life.

Though she knows Tuesday herself is a heavy sleeper, Carole carefully makes her way downstairs, tiptoeing past the couch. Her landlord had an old coffee maker among the other odds and ends stored away in here, and she turns it on now, gathering up the two mugs from the drying rack and setting them out. A quick look in the fridge reveals that they have just enough milk for the morning: both she and Tuesday like to mask the bitterness of the coffee, though Tuesday also likes a little sugar in hers.

It’s in the waiting for the coffee that Carole starts tapping a rhythm on the the counter, humming snatches of a melody. Lyrics about the promise in the smell of coffee, the potential in the daylight seeping across the floor, the peaceful aura around the couch and Tuesday’s deep sleep. The music, like energy, swells through Carole’s chest and she finds herself pouring coffee and milk and sugar with a flourish.

“Tuesday?” She heads over to the couches, setting the mugs down on the table, avoiding the sheets of paper across it. “Tuesday, time to wake up.”

With a small groan, Tuesday presses her face deeper into the pillow. “Really?”

“If you want your coffee hot, then yeah.”

Tuesday pushes herself upright, the blanket falling away and revealing the rumpled sweatshirt as she rubs at her eyes. “I thought I heard singing.”

“Oh, yeah.” Carole laughs, a little self-conscious. She didn’t think anything got through Tuesday’s sleep. She reaches for the mugs and offers the one with sugar to Tuesday before she gets stuck with it. “Sorry for disturbing you.”

Tuesday takes the mug from her but shakes her head, settling back into the couch with her fingers wrapped around the ceramic, a sleepy smile playing around her lips. “No, it was beautiful.”

Carole, reaching for her own mug at the time, hesitates for just a second before she takes a sip, delaying as she tries to figure out the warmth in her chest at that simple statement. They’ve certainly complimented each other in the past, exchanging high-fives over breakthroughs in harmony or lyrics, laughing and smiling as something comes together just right.

She’s not so sure she could play the loneliest girl and bring Tuesday to tears anymore.

Tuesday’s voice interrupts her wandering thoughts. “Would you sing it again? Could we work on it?” She’s leaning forward now, the sleepiness banished in her eagerness.

“Later,” Carole says, though the enthusiasm is catching. The inspiration is there now, and she wants to capture it. But she also wants to be able to buy more milk. “Tonight. We can’t be late, remember?”

“Tonight, then.” Tuesday nods, then suddenly tilts her head back and drains the mug, putting it down with enough force on the table that Carole jumps a bit. She’s distracted by trying to make sure her own mug doesn’t spill that Tuesday jumps to her feet, points toward the bathroom and exclaims, “Race you to the sink!”

“What- Hey!” Carole leans forward just to see the door close behind Tuesday, and Ziggy flies down to show her that it is, indeed, seven in the morning and they need to start getting ready.

The door opens and Tuesday peeks out. “Thanks for the coffee.” Her broad smile as the door closes again makes Carole shake her head.

It’ll be another interesting day.


End file.
